


Passing Days

by justanothernobody



Category: GOT7, K-pop
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cutting, Eventual Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Sad, tw : depression and self-harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-30
Updated: 2019-02-17
Packaged: 2019-06-18 18:52:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15492417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justanothernobody/pseuds/justanothernobody
Summary: One of these days, Mark has to admit that he fell in love. How does he feel about this? Absolutely terrified.





	1. - 1 -

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the "Can You Feel It" writing contest on AFF. 
> 
> Will be uploaded every three days. 
> 
> English isn't my first language so help me out! I'm also open to constructive criticism so do so as well. 
> 
> Enjoy!

When Mark wakes up every morning, it feels like a mundane task. His life was simple, repetitive, and it gets boring. Wake up at 7 a.m., go for a run until 8, get ready for his job at the bookstore at 10, and et cetera. Perhaps, this rooted the reason why he started his habit.

 

Cutting. A splash of colour into his every day routine. A curve imprinted in the once straight line.

 

It makes his life different from how it used to be. From the clean thighs now scattered with lines both old and new to the action done in the most unknown moments. From the emptiness he feels late every night. And to the grim thoughts he has nearly daily.

It makes him feel when his mind is numb. It makes him aware of his surroundings. Most of all, it distracts him from all the things that he likes and dislikes.

It feels weird to be that way, but his life has never been as interesting as it currently is now.

 

He recalls waking up at 1 a.m. and, just, filled with the urge to do it so bad. He accepted the urge, resulting in the brand new scars he slashed on his skin.

He gets asked why he wears long pants even in the hottest of weathers. He lies, and draws some more lines on his thigh.

 

It’s an unbreakable habit now, feeling not like a necessity but rather as a way to calm himself down. He hopes he can stop.

 

(He doesn’t, he knows that. He thinks of that even as the scars chafe and as the blood seeps into his jeans and stains it with dark crimson.)

 

He finds nothing interests him now. He finds many of his habits died down into what he defines as a chore. Once, when he was feeling great, the day would always be messed up and he comes back to the routine.

 

He gets a new perspective and of himself this way. The cuts on his thighs define him.

Weak, failure, hopeless, lastly, faker.

 

He can’t count how many times he smiled for show, simply because he hasn’t done so in ages.

He can’t count the days he went free of his habit, because he has been into it for too long now.

He can’t possibly remember the days he wants to cry but can’t, all because the tears in his eyes have gone dry and leaves him like his cheer did too.

He can’t remember the last time he feels, because no matter how many marks he has made on himself, the feeling simply escape his being and never return.

 

(It does return. But truthfully, it returns bringing him agony as a souvenir. He doesn’t reject the gift at all. Rather, he cherishes it, hoping it to bring more so he can at least feel _something_.)


	2. - 2 -

Mark goes to a psychiatrist once a week, every Tuesday at 7 p.m. after work. It becomes a new thing in his routine, just waiting to stamp itself as another chore. He goes, not fully intent yet on recovering, but more wanting to see a new perspective of his unhappiness.  
  
(He’s been told it was depression. He doesn’t understand how he manages to convince himself for so long that it wasn’t, it just can’t be depression.)  
  
He returns to the psychiatrist every week like the good patient he is. He gets asked the same things each week. “How are you feeling?” gets the response of _I don’t know_ instead of an _I feel like shit_. And “how’s the cuts?” gets _they’re okay_ as a default response from him.  
  
She prescribes him some things. He notices they’re given to him 5 each.  
  
(He dies a little bit inside, even before he gets to take a pill.)  
  
He gets his medicine. The psychiatrist tells him, 2 Valdoxan pills for his sleep and an Abilify tablet for his mood taken at around the same time daily.  
  
He takes it, the tablets inking itself onto his list of tasks and becoming another thing to cross off.  
  
He skips a dose on the third day, after being too tired and witnessing too much red flow down the bathroom sink.  
  
He skips another dose on the eighth day, forgetting completely and instead collapsing on his bed the instant he get home from work.  
  
He takes double his dose on the twelfth day, hoping to overdose himself. Instead he ends up too emotionless and too tired the next day. He cheers himself up by saying, _at least you know those sleeping pills work, and hey, the psychiatrist was smart for giving me the meds little by little._  
  
(In fact, he’s beyond disappointed. He wants death quick and easy, not tiring and numb. He knows it will fail, he never expects the cuts to add after that.)  
  
He hides himself more after that, hiding behind a curtain of lies and fake smiles and more long trousers. His act works.  
  
(He doesn’t want it to. He wants someone to notice. He desperately wants someone to say that it’s okay. He wants them to comfort him, to be there for him in his darkest times. But he knows he’s asking for too much.)


	3. - 3 -

Mark met Jackson on his regular bookstore shift. And the only word that he can describe him with, positive. Very much so. Overly so. He’s never seen someone who embodies the word positive better than Jackson

He does his regular small talk with him,  _ Hi, how can I help you  _ and _ That will be 20 dollars, please _ . He sees the man walk out of the store, the plastic bag in his hand swinging around as he walks.

Somehow, he misses the aura that man gives off in the plain bookstore.

He’s never felt  _ whatever that feeling is  _ seeing that customer walk in the next day.

He more so listens to the customer chatter than converse with him. He doesn’t mind a single bit, the talk peaks his interest and he willingly listens as a good employee would do. He wants to reply, but he has no idea of what to say.

(The word _speechless_ has never felt so right in its context.)

The customer stays for a good two hours, the time spent with a good chat and some coffee from the shop next door.

Before he leaves he says something. _ Jackson,  _ that’s his name. He almost forgets to reply with his own name that time.

From then on Jackson becomes another name on his list of people he sees on a regular basis. Oddly enough, he doesn’t meet the mark (pun unintended) to be considered as a chore.

He figures it’s great, he’s finding interest in something and is growing back into his old, happy self.

He still hides himself in aimless rambles and debates on unimportant topics. he still shields himself from the world he knows of.

But now, he manages to open his door just a bit wider so to let people in.

 

He can't tell if he hates Jackson for doing that to him.

(He breaks his routine twice that night. He forgets to take his meds and doesn’t cut that night.

Amazingly, he feels better than he has been in a long while.)


	4. - 4 -

The next time they meet, Mark’s quite unsure of why his routine has reformatted itself into something unknown.

So he does the new routine when it gets thrown to him.

Wake up 8.30, get ready for his job at 10 a.m., meets Jackson at 12 or at 1, goes home and eats dinner with him at 7, and sleeps again at 11 p.m.

He's been doing the routine for a whole month or so when he realises the change.

He tries to convince himself that he hates this routine, hates it more than his usual one. It's new, it's unwelcome, and it serves as another chore.

(He finds that he doesn't mind the switch-up in his everyday life. He also notices the skip in his steps and more emotion in his eyes)

As he walks the two blocks to go to the bookstore, he thinks. _What is Jackson going to talk about today?_

He stops in his steps.

_What?_

He shakes his head, in hopes of shaking the thoughts away as well.

(He doesn't get them gone. They come back even stronger afterwards and he admits that, yes, he likes them more than any thought that has ever crossed his mind.)

That day Jackson doesn't come to the store. And no, Mark isn't disappointed at all.

(His mind supplies a plethora of _no_ ’s, telling him that he feels otherwise.)

He walks home even slower that day, taking his time to forget about Jackson. Takes his time to forget that he misses him, misses Jackson being an essential in his daily routine.

He shocks himself with how much he realises that Jackson has practically sewn himself onto his boring, repeated tasks. He convinces himself that he hates Jackson for barging into his life.

He can't be bothered to feel discouraged about that.

(He repeatedly thinks _Get out!_ But instead of hatred all the replies scream _Come back!_ )


	5. - 5 -

He wakes up the next morning exhausted, done with overthinking and doubt. Thoughts from the previous night still haunt his mind, he blames Jackson for this.

(Even though he did no wrong. But it's all still his fault.)

And his life steps back into its boring nature, walk to work and start doing his job. He wishes that day for Jackson not to come to the store and make him hate him more.

(He doesn't like him, he doesn't he doesn't _he doesn't but he does_.)

He falls into the mundane hole throughout the day, letting the boring hours pass by with hipsters and bookworms entering the store and staying for way too long.

The only thing that brings him glee is the clock hands showing 5 sharp signalling his day is done.

So he walks back home and gets Chinese takeout for dinner like he always does on Wednesdays.

He waits for the night to eventually break him apart brick by brick. He ends the day with more thoughts and really seals the deal with his cuts.

He gets surprised that he can't cut as deep anymore.

He gets more flabbergasted at the fact that the cuts don't feel as helpful as they used to make him feel.

_Jackson,_ he mutters _, you damn bastard_.

Even if he doesn't have a thing to do with this. It's still all his fault.

(Probably not, his heart says. His mind can't say the same.)

He busies himself with cleaning the little amount of blood from the small cut surrounded by biggers ones. He wipes it it a wet towel and only band-aids it before going to bed.

(He doesn't want to wake up tomorrow, not because he doesn't want to live anymore. No, it's because he doesn't want to see Jackson at the store tomorrow. He hates him _so much_ that he isn't exactly sure of that.)


	6. - 6 -

From that week on whenever he meets Jackson he keeps reminding himself, _you hate him_. It's going to be a while before Jackson notices.

And he does, but he isn't unhappy about it.

All it took was a bit of time into their so-called friendship for Jackson to notice the fact that Mark seems cold, stiff, and unwelcoming. He can't blame him for being observant.

(Mark hopes he is observant _enough_ to actually notice the jagged lines under his ripped jeans.)

And it becomes the setting stone for Jackson’s mission : Make Mark Friends With Him. His right eye twitches slightly at the announcement of it.

He reconsiders this. There are friends, and then there are _friends_. Those you can have a chat with, and those to be crazy with. He's somewhat interested in the latter choice.

The mission officially gets put enacted the next day. Jackson pulls Mark from behind the counter and shoves him a cap to disguise him as they walk to the coffee shop next door.

He spots Jinyoung, a barista he is well-acquainted with, giving him a sympathetic look. He also spot Youngjae currently manning the register and discreetly staring at Jinyoung. Mark can tell he noticed.

He says hi, makes small talk, and orders himself a latte and Jackson a macchiato. He has no idea he got Jackson his usual.

He lights up instantly, voicing out confusion and gratefulness at the same time. Mark has never felt so much hatred in his life.

_(You hate him you hate him you hatehimyouhatehimyoudon’t.)_

Jackson makes him speak up this time. Asking a bunch of unnecessary things in means of a conversation starter. He answers, appreciates the effort, but is too tired to answer.

He tries his best at seeming enthusiastic, he'd like to think he did a great job at it.

(And makes him frown. He'd gotten good at putting on facades.)

They sit and talk, or rather he listens instead, for a good hour or two. All he knows is that by the time they part ways to go home it's already way past his working hours.

He counts. They left the bookstore at 1, and now it's… 7 p.m.… _Huh_ , he thinks, _time does pass by when you're with someone._

He walks back home and unlocks his apartment door. He takes off his shoes and puts them on the rack, instantly goes for a shower, and sleeps peacefully for the first time after a while.

He's broken so many lines of his routine today.

He can't bring himself to care about it.

He’s got nothing to lose, anyways.


	7. - 7 -

When the sun rises the next morning, Mark feels very optimistic about his day.

He shocks himself with this discovery. His mind bluntly thinks, _what, how?_

Ironically, he doesn’t want to blame Jackson for wherever this unknown feeling came from.

He walks to his office with a spring in his steps. It’s rarely there, he can even say it hasn’t been there in years. The last time he recalls being like this was on his first day of the job.

His coworkers, mainly Yugyeom and BamBam, catcalls him and discreetly whispers Jackson every time he looks too happy.

Jackson visits the store today too and almost drags him to go out again.

Mark quietly reminds him he actually has things to do and has to get his wage to live. Jackson sheepishly rubs his neck.

They do go out though, after his bookstore shift ends. They go to an area selling lots of street food. He successfully makes Jackson buy him tteokbokki and they devour the rice cakes while it’s still fresh.

They both walk around the area to find more food to eat, all while he listens to the other talk.

Talking seems to be his best asset. Words, formed together in a chain and spoken aloud is what he takes Jackson’s talent as.

Of course it’s second to his cheerful mood. His mood might just be strong enough to power a whole city. Heck, he thinks it can supply the whole Earth with it.

But then he knows everyone can get tired of being perfectly bright all the time He knows everyone has their limits.

He’s scared of Jackson because he’s so happy all the time. All because he knows, happiness only lasts a while.

It’s one of the things he doesn’t have, yet he longs for the touch of sunshine in his heart to make him smile a real smile again.

Mark’s afraid to be happy, but he wants to give it a try. It’s his journey to self-discovery, and he wants to heal himself until he’s back to normal. Better yet, he wants to be better than how he had been before.

He hasn’t plucked up the courage to do so yet. Somehow, Jackson makes him more confident in doing so.

He knows he’ll fail in it along the way. He is still willing to try even then.

After all, you reach for the stars and pray not to burn, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I might take a bit longer to update, because I've kinda hit a road block at the next chapter. Please be patient, and thanks for reading!


	8. - 8 -

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad to say that I will be discontinuing this story after so long of not updating. It's just that... I kinda fell out of the fandom sometime last year. I found that I've written a chapter that I haven't posted some time ago (probably because I wasn't satisfied with it yet).
> 
> Thank you to those that have read this story.

When the next day comes Mark feels significantly lighter that he does daily. The exhausted expression usually plastered on his face has taken the form of a smile, with teeth showing and all that. It even progresses to his workplace this time.

 

(The feeling of happiness is flowering in him after long periods of a harsh winter. He is truly grateful for it.)

 

He sees Jackson, and he’s shocked to see Mark look so bubbly that day.

 

(Even Mark himself is shocked, it’s rare to see him smile so much in a day. He feels his cheeks hurt already but he doesn’t bother.)

 

His whole demeanour is contagious, even his boss Jaebum becomes cheerful and lets Mark spend a day at the cafe next door to talk with Jackson again.

 

(Jaebum lets the two go under the constant harassment of the two maknaes in their group. Yugyeom and BamBam sure know how to get what they want for him.)

 

He lets himself fall in Jackson’s chatter and his own replies. His smile widens in that hour alone. He doesn’t mind the twist in his routine this time.

 

Speaking about time, everything suddenly quickens and before he knows it, they’ve spent countless hours at that cafe just talking. It feels like a fast-paced fantasy, both real and unreal at the same time. He hopes that he never wakes up if it really is a fantasy.

 

(Or maybe, it's a reality, sweet like honey and enticing him like a seductress.

 

It's like Jackson — sweet and temporary.)

**Author's Note:**

> Crossposted on AFF under the account mp_2506


End file.
